Eyes On You
by Rockstarlet
Summary: When Hermione finds her eyes straying from her books she begins to realise that someone else's eyes are firmly on her... ♥Complete♥
1. Monday

**(A/N: This is my first fanfiction. I hope you like it. It would be nice to know what you think. ♥)**

Hermione Granger had never been one to point fingers, but one hot and stuffy Monday afternoon she realised that the ghostly Professor Binns, lecturing his class from the front of the classroom, was the sole reason why History Of Magic was so utterly _dull_. Even she, "goody-two-shoes-know-it-all-teacher's-pet" Granger, fell into some kind of hypnotic stupor every time the man opened his mouth. She was convinced she would learn much more studying by herself in the library, but then again that wouldn't be difficult. She looked down at the parchment in front of her, where her usually word-perfect notes should have been. Hermione rarely, if ever, found herself copying down anything that Professor Binns said.

She laid down the quill that she had been absentmindedly tapping on her desk and looked to her left. Her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat at desks, one in front of the other. Ron was slouched low in his chair with only his closed eyes and shockingly red hair visible. Harry, however, was writing earnestly on the piece of parchment in front of him. Hermione smiled approvingly and leaned over slightly to see what had caught his attention. She rolled her eyes as she watched him scrawl "I'm so bored" for the hundredth time across the page.

Slumping back into her seat she rested her chin in both of her hands and let her wildly curly brown hair fall across her face, hiding her from view. It was only then that she realised that she could feel someone looking at her.

It started with that strange prickling on the back of her neck, and then a shiver that was peculiarly hot and cold, as well as pleasant and unpleasant, at the same time snaked its way up her spine. She felt herself blush. Nobody around her was whispering her name and Professor Binns wasn't calling on her from the front of the room, but somebody was definitely trying to get Hermione's attention. In a room full to the brim with Slytherins she didn't dare to take even a peek over her shoulder, but curiosity made common sense hard to obey. For all she knew it was probably Lavender Brown hoping to copy Hermione's precise notes after yet again falling asleep under Professor Binns' natural sleeping spell… but it certainly didn't feel like that. These eyes held an intense and seemingly unbreakable gaze: hot and fiery on her skin. It was almost as though they were talking to her. '_Hermione_,' they said, '_Hermione_.'

A spiky elbow in the ribs brought Hermione back to the room.

'_Hermione_?' Harry said again, '_Hermione_!'

'Hm? What?' She mumbled.

'Class is over,' he told her, and then added a muttered, 'Thank God… Come _on_, let's get out of here!'

Hermione shook her head to clear it and rubbed her eyes. Apart from a few stragglers, she, Harry and Ron were the only people still in the History Of Magic classroom. The eyes on her had gone. She felt boring and normal again.

She stood up, shovelled her belongings into her bag and followed her friends from the room.

'What is it about History Of Magic?' Ron was saying exasperatedly as she caught up with them, 'It's so bloody _boring_. I don't know how anybody can stay awake.'

'Well you've certainly proved that _you_ can't,' Hermione teased.

'I think we caught you having a bit of a snooze at the end there too Hermione,' Ron replied haughtily, 'Who would've thought it? Hermione Granger asleep in class! Wait 'til the Daily Prophet hears about this…'

Hermione slapped him lightly on the arm and tried to laugh along, but a sudden thought had made her shoulders droop. Maybe she _had_ fallen asleep in class. Maybe those eyes on her had just been in her imagination. She wouldn't be surprised: the number of muggle romance novels she had been reading in her spare time with a wistful smile would explain that. She had begun to feel starved of romance. She had hear enough times that girls like her didn't have the time to waste on such things, but she couldn't help resenting that having brains made her any less appealing. Unless she just wasn't appealing to start with.

'Hermione?' Harry was saying to her again, looking concerned, 'Are you okay?'

She nodded at him and tried to smile convincingly, 'Just a bit dazed,' she told him, 'Nothing a good bit of Potions homework won't fix.'

Ron groaned and shook his head with a long-suffering look on his face.

Hermione shrugged with a grin, 'At least I'm easy to please.'

'You may be many things Hermione,' Harry said as they reached the Gryffindor common room and flopped down on chairs around the fireplace, 'But you're definitely not easy to please.'

'Is that a bad thing?' She wanted to know as she scrabbled in her pockets for a quill.

Harry smiled at her caringly, 'Probably not.'


	2. Tuesday

(A/N: Hee hee, thank you all so much for your reviews, they made my day! I hope you will all like where the story's headed… but I can't spoil the surprise yet, now can I? I'll try to make this chapter longer. Enjoy! ♥

Oh, and, P.S. – I think it's safe to say that I'm ignoring the 6th book in this fanfic. I'm far too attached to Dumbledore!)

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling more in control of herself than she had the day before. She was now certain that the heat in Professor Binns' classroom had been the cause of her wandering mind. With the prospect of a whole morning of Transfiguration under the steely eye of Professor McGonagall before her, Hermione knew there would be no room for any kind of daydreaming whatsoever.

In the Great Hall the bewitched ceiling cast an uplifting golden glow across the usually slightly mundane ritual of breakfast. Hermione slowly ate her way through a bowl of cornflakes as she carefully scanned the front page of the day's Daily Prophet. She smiled smugly to herself as she looked up from the newspaper to take a sip from the goblet in front of her and saw Ron scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. The hastily scrawled title read "The Laws Of Transfiguration".

'Perhaps you should've done that last night,' she said with an innocent look, 'You know: when you were lecturing me about how I do far too much homework for my own good, and why I should do my work more like you do…?'

'Shut up,' Ron muttered, only stopping his quill to glare at Harry's smirk. Hermione was pleased to see Ron turn slightly pink. So he _should_ be ashamed.

'You'd better watch out for McGonagall,' Harry advised.

Ron froze and hastily checked over both shoulders.

'I wouldn't worry about McGonagall,' Seamus Finnigan said conversationally as his hand reached for the bacon.

'What do you mean?' Hermione questioned, passing the plate to him.

'Haven't you heard?' Dean Thomas joined in.

All three friends shook their heads.

'She's gone off somewhere for Dumbledore. Ministry business, I think.'

'So what about her classes?' Harry wanted to know.

'Cancelled,' Dean and Seamus said together with matching grins.

Ron let out a strangled groan; staring down at the Transfiguration essay he had missed breakfast for and feigned stabbing himself with his quill.

Much to Ron and Harry's disappointment, Professor McGonagall's 6th year class were not let off scot-free to roam Hogwarts and have a pleasant morning off in the sunshine. Instead, the students were left in the care of the ever-irritable Madam Pince in the Hogwarts library and were expected to get on quietly with homework from other classes. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a round table in the corner of the library and tried to look busy.

'This is worse than History Of Magic,' Ron whined, his face hidden behind a copy of "Hogwarts, A History".

'_Ron_,' Hermione hissed, 'That book is _upside down_.'

Harry gave a snort of laughter and was rewarded with a withering look from the librarian.

'Shh, both of you!' Hermione chastised, 'This is a _library_.'

'Yes Harry,' Ron mimicked, 'On no account must there be _any_ fun or happiness of _any_ kind…'

Hermione rolled her eyes at their sniggers and opened up a huge volume called "Ancient Runes and You". She tried to make her disciplined eyes read, but she had seen the words so many times before that she didn't even have to look to know what they said. She reached down to her bag at her feet and searched blindly inside it with one hand for something she didn't already know off by heart. By chance her fingers came into contact with a fat, squashy paperback. On further investigation it turned out to be one of the many teenage romances that had become Hermione's guilty and embarrassingly clichéd pleasure. The title seemed to jeer at her from the book's cover: "Eyes On You". Hermione angrily stuffed the book back into her bag and slumped down in her seat, taking cover behind "Ancient Runes and You". She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on top of them. She tried to ignore the sudden knot in her stomach and the blush that she could feel burning on her cheeks, but the feelings from yesterday were all rushing back. She was filled with a puzzling, shivery excitement. She clenched her fists. If she just sat up and turned round she would come face to face with her watcher and eye to eye with the smouldering eyes on her. She swallowed nervously, flattened her palms onto the table, slowly sat up, held her breath and-

'Hermione? Are you asleep again?'

Hermione shot up about a foot in the air.

'No!' She squeaked weakly at Ron, gripping the edge of the table tightly, 'Just… daydreaming.'

She laid "Ancient Runes and You" flat down on the table and knew that her watcher wasn't watching anymore and must have already left… or was leaving right then. She casually turned her head to the door and watched with a sinking feeling as _Neville Longbottom_ stumbled across the threshold and out of the library.

Neville's eyes could smoulder?


	3. Wednesday

(A/N: Thank you again for the lovely reviews, and sorry this has taken so long to update. Fear not my sweetlings, all shall become clear! ♥)

'I trust you've learned from yesterday's mistakes and have already finished your Potions essay for today _Ronald_?' Hermione asked, her voice sugary sweet as she sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ron choked on his spoon and all of the colour drained from his face. Hermione rolled her eyes, reached into her bag for a spare piece of parchment, tapped her own Potions homework and muttered a spell under her breath. Harry and Ron watched in amazement as Hermione's impossibly neat handwriting shot out of the tip of her wand and transformed itself into Ron's untidy scrawl as it hit the parchment. She patiently waited until the very last full stop dripped out of her wand, and then she handed the parchment to Ron. He gaped at her.

'This is only a one off,' she reminded him sternly, 'I just don't want Professor Snape to waste his lesson making your life a misery. Again.'

Ron dislodged the spoon from his throat and threw his arms around Hermione across the table with a huge grin.

'You're the best,' he beamed, 'I love you Hermione.'

Harry looked down at his own Potions essay in dismay.

'Not fair,' he muttered, '_I've_ never gotten a copy of your work no matter _how_ stuck I was.'

'It's not an exact copy,' Hermione explained guiltily, 'It just says roughly the same thing.'

Ron was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

'I'll help you next time,' she promised Harry feebly.

'Humph,' he said haughtily, '_Favouritism_.'

Hermione opened her mouth to bite back indignantly, but Harry's teasing grin told her that there was no need.

'I don't suppose someone's going to tell us that Snape's disappeared off somewhere too, now?' Ron added hopefully.

'We wish,' Harry said wistfully.

'Mmm,' Hermione joined in, trying to sound enthusiastic. In truth she couldn't wait to get to Potions. The one benefit of being at the mercy of the greasy-haired Professor Snape was that Neville Longbottom, who had always struggled with Potions, would be nowhere near her to carry on his staring. She could finally concentrate on her schoolwork again. She didn't know when she had become so easily distracted, but she certainly didn't like it.

'C'mon then,' Ron said heavily as the long house tables cleared themselves, signalling the end of breakfast, 'Let's get this over with.'

Hermione prepared her individual potion cheerfully, her eyes scanning the instructions in front of her as she carefully chopped delicate petals to later add to the bubbling cauldron at her side. So far she was actually having a pretty good day. Her happy mood was reflecting in others, especially a very grateful Ron, and even Professor Snape managed to praise her potion without a much of a sneer.

With her now electric blue potion simmering nicely in its cauldron, Hermione took her seat again to finish off her notes. She lifted her quill, loaded it with ink and continued in her neat script where she had left off. "… this potion, when brewed correctly, should appear bright blue in colour. This is to aid-" Hermione froze as she felt a now familiar shiver tiptoe its way up her spine. But it was impossible that he could be watching her here! Neville had dropped Potions faster than a dungbomb as soon as he had finished with his O.W.Ls… so if it wasn't Neville then who was it?

Her mind flashed back to Ron at breakfast that morning. His voice echoed in her ears: "I love you Hermione". She bit her lip… but it couldn't be Ron. Of course he loved her, but it was a _friendly_ kind of love. He cared about Hermione the same as he cared about, say, Harry for instance. Right on cue, Harry's jealous tone floated back to her: "_Favouritism_." She leant further over her parchment as her watcher kept watching. She didn't know what she would do if it was Ron or Harry, but who else would pay any attention to her? No one else cared.

With the same mixed feeling of dread and wicked excitement as before, Hermione clumsily brushed her quill off her desk and onto the floor. Under the guise of picking it back up she turned her head and looked around. Ron and Harry weren't even anywhere near her! They stood, bent over Harry's cauldron, bickering quietly about the quantity of bat bile to add to their potion. Hermione resisted the urge to wipe the nervous beads of sweat from her forehead, cartoon-style, and slowly began to crane her neck towards where her watcher must be. She could almost imagine staring into those eyes, surely a deep, seductive brown, and feeling a fire burning low in her stomach that-

'_Miss Granger_!' Snape snapped, 'While I appreciate that you wish to be perfect at everything, crawling on your hands and knees like a house-elf to clear up does seem _slightly_ extreme, even for you.'

Hermione felt herself blush as she sat up properly and hurried to tidy away her things. The bell began to ring, filling the bare dungeon with noise and Hermione grabbed her books and hurried to catch up with Harry and Ron.

She tripped, and the next thing she knew she was face down on the cold, stone floor, looking up at the only people she could never look up _to_ in her whole life. The Slytherins. Draco Malfoy stood at the head of the pack, silent, but effortlessly dominant. Apart from some muffled giggling, the Slytherins were quiet. It was apparently an unspoken rule that Malfoy got the first word. A smirk flickered on his face as Hermione struggled to right herself. With her last shred of dignity, Hermione pulled herself to her feet. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione was not in the mood.

'Don't even start, _ferret boy_,' she snarled, uncannily like her Potions master. Every so often it paid to listen to one's enemies.

A look of shock had appeared on Malfoy's face, but was hurriedly replaced with his usual scowl.

'Oh, and that face is supposed to scare me off, is it?' She asked with a raised eyebrow, 'I'm shaking in my boots Malfoy.'

'Are you going to let her talk to you like that Draco?' Squealed Pansy Parkinson, sounding outraged.

Apparently he was.

But as Hermione lifted her chin up high, and made to stalk her way up the corridor in a flurry of black robes, Malfoy opened the thin, unamused line that was his mouth.

'Maybe I'm not trying to scare you off Granger,' he said, his voice dryer, and somehow more serious than normal.

Hermione gaped at him. So did the rest of the Slytherins. No one was laughing now.

Malfoy looked around at the crowd that flanked him, 'And you know what they say: keep your friends close,' he shifted his gaze back at her, _straight_ at her, for the first time in Hermione's life, 'And your enemies closer.'

She mouthed the words silently with him, before she knew what she was doing. She needed to snap out of it before she was stuck there, gawping like an idiot forever. How embarrassing, she thought, to be gawping like an idiot forever at a spot which _Draco Malfoy_ had once been occupying.

'Sorry Malfoy,' she said suddenly, her voice feeling separate from her body, 'I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole. You'll have to look for some other enemies to nauseate.'

As she finally whirled round to stomp off, one of her hundreds of books slid from the pile in her arms and back onto the floor. She turned, red-faced, to fetch it as the sniggering started again. She was met with Draco Malfoy thrusting the book on Muggle Studies into her face.

'You'll be needing this,' he said, still holding firmly onto the end of the book, 'After all, you don't need to waste precious studying time looking for people to nauseate Granger: that just comes naturally.'

Hermione tugged on the book, and Malfoy tugged back, forcing her chin to jerk up and her gaze to meet his. Hermione stared defiantly back into Malfoy's angry, burning eyes, and then suddenly he let go of the book and, with a swish of his cloak, he and his followers were halfway down the corridor and his eyes were back to their usually steely grey.

Hermione was frozen on the spot. With a deep breath she shook her dazed head, and some clarity blasted away the clouds of confusion smothering her brain.

She was late for Ancient Runes.

With a yelp, she set off for class at twice her usual speed. The sprint up the three flights of stairs to Ancient Runes took it out of Hermione. Sitting in the warm, comfortable classroom, she almost fell asleep again. But this time there were no eyes on her. She had never been so thankful in her whole life.


	4. Thursday

**(A/N: This is quite long in comparison to the other chapters, but I had the writing bug last night so I hope the length and the quick update makes up for the amount of time it took me to post the 3rd chapter. Be pure, be vigilant – behave! ♥)**

Deep in her sleep, Hermione was safe from everything. Hogwarts was the safest place to be in the world, and her dreams were the safest place to be inside her head. It was typical, however, that she was dreaming of books. She sat in the middle of a vast library, far bigger than the huge library at Hogwarts, surrounded by hundreds upon thousands of books. There was no doubt that this was heaven. It was pleasant to find a book already lying open in her lap. She could happily lift it, curl up and read for the rest of her life. With a sigh of contentment, she raised the volume from her knee and saw, with horror, that it was the very same Muggle Studies book that she and Draco Malfoy had been grappling with only hours before. And then she felt a familiar shiver run through her as a gentle hand touched her shoulder and heard a dry voice whispering in her ear: "Maybe I'm not trying to scare you off Granger…"

Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. Why was her brain letting her dream about Draco Malfoy? And _why_ was her brain trying to trick her into thinking he was the one doing all this watching? She hurriedly checked her watch and was relieved to find that it was ten to seven. The less time her unconscious mind had to poison itself the better. Hogwarts might be safe, but Hermione's head certainly wasn't.

'Bad day…?' Harry ventured as Hermione sat down with a thud at the dinner table, banged down her elbows and covered her face with her hands.

'Mmph,' she replied.

'Never mind,' Ron said consolingly, 'Have some toad in the hole.'

'Yuck,' Hermione said unenthusiastically through her hands.

'Don't worry, it's not real toad-' Ron began to explain.

'I _know_ that,' Hermione groaned, finally removing her hands from her face and looking down at the food in front of her. She wasn't hungry, but if she didn't eat then she would have to talk.

'Something up?' Harry asked conversationally, obviously hoping to avoid any more arguments.

Of course there was something up: it was plainly obvious. What was up was the fact that whenever Hermione let her attentions wander from some kind of specific task it had begun to always end up in the same place, more specifically, in that dungeon with Malfoy. Somehow the whole host of other people who had witnessed the event had melted away in Hermione's memory, and now whenever she drifted off inside her head she saw Malfoy's eyes fiercely gazing into hers. If she stopped listening to a teacher for more than a millisecond, that dry, unbelievably believable voice would start up in her ears like a record player stuck on repeat. If she stopped thinking, she relived the surprising warmth coming from his body as they both held on tightly to Hermione's book. She was afraid that if it happened one more time she would explode.

'No,' Hermione shook her head and reached for the steak pie, 'Nothing's up.'

Her fork was an inch from her mouth when she felt the back of her neck prickle in a pleasant way. She had never before experienced pleasance which made her so on edge. She jumped to her feet and ran from the Great Hall, moving so fast that her fork had not yet clattered back onto her golden plate when she started up the marble staircase towards Gryffindor corridor two steps at a time.

She kept running up another flight of stairs and along two long corridors before she gave in to the stabbing pain in her chest, and stopped to catch her breath. Almost immediately she heard footsteps coming

down the hall after her, and the prickling sensation on her neck caught up. Behind her was the owner of the eyes who had tricked her into obsessing about Draco Malfoy. Behind her was the person who had spoiled a perfectly good dream. Behind her was the person who had made this one of the worst weeks in history. With a new surge of anger, Hermione whirled round and faced her watcher.

Behind her was Draco Malfoy.

'_You_!' She exploded, clenching her fists tightly to stop herself from slapping that pale face for the second time.

Malfoy stood his ground, 'Me,' he agreed with not a smirk in sight.

'You've been looking at me!' Hermione shouted accusingly, anger still thumping through her veins.

'Looking at you?' He repeated, 'Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're talking to someone?'

'In class,' she snapped, 'History Of Magic and Transfiguration and Potions and just now at dinner.'

'Me?' He asked innocently.

Hermione fumed silently, beyond words that certainly wouldn't be found in any book in the Hogwarts library.

'You know full well you're doing it, and it's… it's… _distracting_,' she finally managed to hiss. For one horrible minute she thought was going to tell him it was exciting. She needed to get away before she lost control of her mouth, as well as her brain.

'_Distracting_,' Malfoy said slowly, as though hearing the word for the first time, 'I like that.'

Hermione was determined to make this quick.

'Look,' she said, 'What are you doing here? Why did you follow me out of the Great Hall? And _why_ do you keep watching me in classes?'

'It feels strange to be answering questions coming from you,' he mused, 'I'm so used to hearing you answer other peoples'.'

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and set her mouth in a grim line.

'All right, all right,' he sighed, 'I'm here because I want to be, I followed you out of the Great Hall because I wanted to and I keep watching you in classes because I want to.'

'So you admit it now?' Hermione pounced.

Malfoy looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.

'Er…'

It was the first time Hermione had ever seen him falter. So he was human after all.

'Well,' she said after an awkward pause, 'You've had your fun, so could you just go back to ignoring the fact that I even exist please? I prefer it to this.'

'Why?' He wanted to know, recovered from his mistake, 'Is it because you can't control the feelings that you get from me paying attention to you? Because you can't find a cure for this in one of your books?'

'A cure for what exactly?'

Malfoy made to give an immediate answer, and then stopped himself.

'Distractions,' he said instead.

'A distraction is a cry for attention,' Hermione said, wryly noting that she sounded a lot like she did when she answered a question in class, 'What kind of attention could you possibly get from me? I'm just a mudblood, remember Malfoy? Just a filthy, stinking, wretched-'

'Enough!' He interrupted, and his voice echoed along the empty corridor. Hermione saw, with a wicked twist of delight in her stomach, that there was again fire in his eyes. Yet, all too soon, his gaze dropped to the floor between them.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

Hermione did a double take.

'What?' She said incredulously.

'I'm _sorry_,' he said, louder and with more feeling, 'I shouldn't have said all of those things about you. If I could take them all back, I would.'

He looked up at her again and Hermione stared at him, shocked and silent. Then, slowly, she shook her head in disbelief.

'It's true,' he said quietly.

'What utter _rubbish_,' Hermione muttered, shaking her head again and turning to leave.

'Just because you're scared,' Malfoy said tauntingly, yet she knew he was smiling broadly. If anything, that made her even more annoyed with him.

'_Scared_?' She cried, rounding on him.

He caught her by the wrists before she could do any damage and brought her arms down to her sides.

'You know,' he said thoughtfully, 'You're really quite beautiful.'

Hermione felt sick and glorious at the same time.

'What?' She choked out.

'You're beautiful Hermione.'

Her name. He had used her name. Hermione's mind was reeling.

Malfoy still had a strong hold on her arms. It was surprising how strong he was, for always looking so pale and thin. She could feel warmth seeping through her robes and onto her arms from his fingertips. Everything about her was tense and on tenterhooks.

'I'm here because I finally got the nerve to do this, I followed you out of the Great Hall because I was wanted to know why you left in such a rush, and I've been watching you in classes because I can't help it. My eyes just seem to seek you out, and once I start I can't stop. I think I'm addicted to you.'

And then, with his hands still binding her to him, he leant forward and kissed her. He was gentle, respectful, and everything else that Hermione would never have guessed in a million years that he would be. She wanted to melt into him and never let him stop. She felt wonderful, and more alive than she had in years. Nothing could have prepared her for what was happening, but suddenly it all made perfect sense to her. Kissing Draco Malfoy. It was a completely flawless idea.

All too soon Malfoy stopped kissing Hermione altogether. She was rather pleased to see that his pale cheeks were slightly flushed, and that fire was still burning in his eyes.

'Good night,' he said rather hoarsely, and then he was gone.

Gradually, Hermione came back down to earth. She licked her lips and tasted Draco Malfoy. She knew she wouldn't sleep that night, and she also knew that the next day was going to be pure torture.


	5. Friday

**(A/N: Thank you for les reviews! I love you all muchly, and I hope you're still enjoying the tale as much as I'm enjoying writing it. ♥)**

When Hermione peered into the mirror on Friday morning, she found a big smile on her face. It was a pleasing smile: happy, without being smug. She paused, about to slide a clip into her unruly curls, and felt almost… pretty. "_You're beautiful Hermione,_" Malfoy's voice echoed in her memory. The boy had spent five years of Hermione's life trying to make her as miserable as possible, yet now she was seeing a different Draco Malfoy altogether. This version of Malfoy was so deliciously mysterious, but she knew she had to play it cool. She couldn't even imagine trying to explain to Ron and Harry what she had been up to the night before. She had fobbed them off with excuses about feeling sick, but that had backfired on her slightly. No matter where they were, they were now constantly asking if she was okay.

'All right Hermione?' Harry checked as she sat down at the breakfast table.

'Fine thanks,' she said, smiling idyllically. She folded her usual Daily Prophet in half, and reached to slip into her bag.

'Aren't you going to read that?' Ron asked, not being used to seeing Hermione's usually hidden face across the breakfast table.

'Hm?' Hermione murmured distractedly, 'Not today. News is so depressing, isn't it? Too depressing for such a nice day like this.'

And it really was a nice day. Hermione had never before seen the sun quite so bright, lighting up the whole Great Hall through its enchanted ceiling, never realised just how lovely the room itself was, never noticed just how sweet morning bird-song was… If she wasn't so busy being happy, she was sure she would be disgusted with herself. This euphoria was horribly clichéd.

As they left the Great Hall, headed for class, Ron looked at Hermione's dreamy smile with raised eyebrows.

'Are you _sure_ you're all right?' He persisted.

'Of course,' she beamed at him, 'Why shouldn't I be?'

'You're just so…' he gestured at Hermione's sparkling eyes and glowing skin, 'Smiley.'

'So it's a crime to smile now is it Weasel?' Said a familiar voice, 'You Gryffindors are such kill-joys.'

Hermione's heart beat so loudly in her chest she wouldn't have been surprised if Professor Trelawney in the Divination tower could hear it. Please not here, she thought, not now. She wasn't ready to hate him again.

'Get lost Malfoy,' Ron muttered, reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

Malfoy pretended to look hurt, 'I was just making polite conversation. Now why did you have to go and be so rude?'

'I'm sure there are better things you could be doing Malfoy,' Harry said quickly as Ron opened his mouth to retort with something stupid.

Without warning Hermione suddenly felt a hand covering hers: its fingers entwining with hers and squeezing tight. She couldn't believe what he was doing. It was doubtful that anyone could see through the sea of tightly packed bodies in the entrance hall, but it was still a stupid thing to do. It was a downright dangerous thing to do. A wicked feeling of delight filled her from her head to her toes.

'I'm sure you're right,' Malfoy said, coolly meeting Harry's angry glare, and then loosening Hermione from his grasp and disappearing off into the crowd. Hermione's fingers, still warm from his touch, instinctively traced her lips. Trouble had always been good at finding Hermione since she had become friends with the famous, and occasionally infamous Harry Potter, but never before had trouble held her hand.

That night, heading back from the library towards Gryffindor common room, Hermione felt a familiar shiver. She raised her head, and saw him step out from behind a nearby suit of armour. She stood before him, awkwardly clutching her usual pile of books. After a silence Hermione realised that maybe for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy didn't know what to say. Well neither did she. Instead, she confidently met his gaze and smiled. A grin stole its way onto his face, and he took her hand to pull her back behind the suit of armour and away from prying eyes. For a moment she lost herself in newfound ecstasy as he kissed her and she responded. She could almost have kissed him forever, but she knew she needed to hear his voice for everything to be perfect. Unfortunately, both things couldn't be done at once…

'You shouldn't have done that today,' she said breathlessly as they broke apart.

'I couldn't help myself,' he whispered, 'I know it was stupid, but you didn't complain, did you?'

'I'm complaining now!' She hissed; caught somewhere between exasperation and the fit of giggles that had just crept up on her.

'You can't fool me: I can see you smiling,' he said, grinning himself.

'You're smiling too!' She laughed, affectionately poking him in the chest with a finger. He pulled her even closer to him. She saw his smile fade and felt him gently rest his forehead against hers.

'Listen,' he said softly. Hermione obeyed, letting her eyes drop closed and basking in the husky tone of his voice.

'We're all going to Hogsmeade tomorrow and I was thinking…'

'Yes?' Hermione asked, trying not to sound too eager. He was going to ask her to go with him: she just knew it. She couldn't believe this: of all the weird things to have happened in Hogwarts, this was definitely the weirdest. The last time she had checked Draco Malfoy had hated her guts and now they were going to Hogsmeade together! She could almost see them peering in shop windows together, having a drink in the Three Broomsticks and-

'I was thinking that you shouldn't expect me to be any different than I am usually if I see you.'

His words cut viciously through her fantasy and sank miserably to the bottom of her stomach. She pulled away from him abruptly.

'So I'm just supposed to pretend that nothing ever happened, am I?' She demanded.

'Of course not,' he said, reaching for her hand, 'Just when we're not alone. Surely you realise it would be hell for both of us if this got out. Come on Hermione, it'll be okay. Everything's much better now.'

Hermione did realise that both of their lives would be made pretty much unliveable if everyone found out about them, but it didn't stop her eyes filling with hot, angry tears.

'Oh yes,' she said, her voice trembling, 'Everything's much better now that you only hate me half the time.'

She turned to go, but he caught her by the arm.

'That's not true,' he growled, his eyes ablaze, 'You know that.'

'Well it doesn't matter,' Hermione said, wrenching her robes from his grip, 'Because you'll never have the guts to prove it anyway.'


	6. Saturday

**(A/N: Ooooooooh - exciting chapter! Well, not really, but I had fun writing it. Hope you likey! ♥)**

Sitting in The Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade, Hermione brooded over her butterbeer and ignored all forms of conversation that Ron and Harry tried to engage her in. They had stopped asking what was wrong half an hour before, for fear of losing their heads in the process. They had now resorted to trying out Harry's new wizard chessboard, bought that morning in Hogsmeade, because that at least didn't necessarily involve talking or Hermione.

Hermione could feel warming sunshine on her back through the front window of the pub. She hated it.

She could hear other Hogwarts students talking, laughing and enjoying themselves, and she hated them.

She hated school, she hated life, she hate, hate, _hated_ Draco Malfoy.

But of course she didn't really hate him, and that was why she hated herself.

'Well,' said Harry tentatively, 'Should we, um, go for a walk or something?'

Hermione nodded silently and tried to smile. It wasn't fair to take her anger and disappointment out on her best friends who hadn't done anything wrong.

'I'm sorry I've been so anti-social,' she said quietly as they pulled on their cloaks.

They both looked relieved that she was talking again.

'You keep going from one extreme to the other,' Ron teased, 'I can't keep up.'

'Try harder,' Hermione told him, grinning properly for the first time that day.

As the trio emerged from The Three Broomsticks onto the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, they saw a large group of Slytherins headed their way. Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him and misinterpreted the reason. He patted her arm reassuringly.

'Don't worry,' he muttered, 'There don't have to be any arguments, do there Ron?'

Ron, who had been menacingly cracking his knuckles and muttering insults under his breath looked up at him.

'What?' He said, sounding crestfallen. Harry glowered at him.

'Right,' he agreed hastily, 'No arguments.'

The three of them braced themselves as one and soldiered on.

For one wonderful moment Hermione thought that they might get away with it, but then Malfoy's voice caught up with them.

'Not even stopping to say hello Potter?' He called, 'Not very polite of you.'

Hermione saw Harry's fists clench.

'Please don't rise,' she whispered, 'Please Harry.'

'Too scary for you, are we?' Malfoy taunted, 'I'm surprised Weasley, I didn't think there was anything scarier than you're Quidditch keeping.'

Harry and Ron stopped in their tracks.

'_Please_,' Hermione pleaded desperately.

'Fair enough,' Malfoy continued, 'Off you trot with your Weasel and the mudblood, Potter.'

The two boys whirled around furiously, but Hermione carried on walking.

'Aw Hermione,' Pansy Parkinson simpered, 'Don't run away!'

Hermione's own hands tightened into fists. Bloody Pansy Parkinson: she just couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she? Only her complete hatred for that girl, mixed with her bad mood, could convince her to slowly turn back.

Hermione cocked her head slightly to one side, raised a sarcastic eyebrow and held Pansy's gaze just long enough for the Slytherin girl to blush a pleasing, luminous red. Hermione could feel Malfoy's eyes on her, burning impatiently for her attention. She ignored him. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin who Hermione knew little about, put on a falsely sympathetic face and took over from Pansy, who was now studying the floor.

'Did Draco scare you mudblood?' He asked patronisingly, 'Oh dear! He's sorry!'

Hermione's lip curled of its own accord. She imagined shoving Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini down a large flight of stairs all at once and felt a cruel, satisfied smirk appear on her face.

'Not as sorry as he _will_ be,' she promised.

'Hermione!' Dean Thomas shouted, racing up the street behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.

They stopped and turned to wait for him.

'I just heard a whole bunch of Slytherins attacked you and single-handedly stunned them all at once! Is that true?' He gabbled breathlessly.

'Of course it's not true,' Hermione laughed, 'But this is interesting: rumours in my favour, for once.'

'Never happens when _I_ make clever comments,' Ron grumbled.

'Then maybe they're not always as clever as you think,' Harry grinned at him.

'Ha ha,' his friend muttered sarcastically.

The trio watched as Dean hurried off, disappointed, to rejoin his friends.

'I think this might work to your advantage Hermione,' Harry said with a smile, 'You're going to be a hero.'

After a while, Hermione began to rather enjoy being a hero. People would pat her on the back, call out to her in the corridors and smile at her a lot more than usual. Deep down she felt somewhat guilty that she really hadn't done anything at all, especially not taking on a whole bunch of Slytherins single-handedly, but it was still nice to feel important and special for once. Draco made her feel important and special.

'Shut _up_ Hermione,' she muttered to herself between clenched teeth.

'First sign of madness,' said an amused voice in her ear.

She looked up, startled, to see Justin Finch-Fletchley standing beside her with a friendly smile on his face. Justin was an amiable, if occasionally slightly pompous, Hufflepuff who had been a strong supporter of the DA the year before.

It suddenly came to Hermione that she was standing in the middle of a corridor she didn't recognise staring vacantly at an empty portrait, usually of a portly wizard wearing a monocle.

'Yep,' she flushed slightly, 'Today's definitely been mad.'

'You look a bit peaky,' he said kindly, 'Is the fame starting to wear you down?'

Hermione laughed, 'You could say that. But if it's like this for me, imagine how it must be for poor Harry. I've never really realised before.'

'Very noble.'

'I mean it,' Hermione said sharply.

'I know,' Justin told her gently, 'So do I.'

Hermione felt embarrassed again. Here she was, snapping at poor Justin when all he was trying to do was be a friend.

'I'm really sorry,' she said after a moment of silence, 'It's not just the "fame" thing, I've got other things on my mind. That's why I'm in such a mood.'

'Anything you want to talk about?' He offered.

Hermione hesitated. She _did_ want to talk about it. In truth, she wanted to kick and scream and howl about it, but she knew she couldn't.

'No,' she said eventually, 'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'Okay,' he nodded, 'Well I'm here if you'd like to. And I'm not just talking to you because you knocked out a flock of Slytherins-'

'I didn-' Hermione interrupted automatically, but he stopped her.

'I know,' he said again, his voice still wonderfully calm and soft and soothing.

Hermione's shoulders sagged.

'Come on,' said Justin, putting a comforting arm around her and gently turning her away from the portrait, 'I think you should get some rest.'

She let him lead her along corridors and up stairs in silence, until finally they were outside the Gryffindor common room.

'I'll leave you here,' he told her, turning to go.

'Justin?' she called after him.

He turned back with a questioning look on his face.

'Thanks,' she said after a pause, her mouth trying to remember how to smile.

'No problem,' he smiled back.

Hermione suddenly felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears, and before she knew it she was clinging to Justin and he was hugging her, practically holding her up.

'You'll be okay,' he murmured in her ear, 'Whatever's wrong, I know it'll work out.'

After a moment, she composed herself, wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and gave him a wobbly smile.

'Thanks,' she croaked again.

She watched as Justin walked off down the corridor, and then she turned to the portrait hole. She had just opened her mouth to utter the password when she was interrupted.

'Well,' said a voice. Hermione had never heard one syllable full of such accusation and contempt. Of course, only one person could master such a use of the English language.

'Can I help you?' She asked, still facing the portrait hole, 'Or can I stop wasting my time?'

'That was a _very_ touching display of affection,' he continued, ignoring her cutting questions, '_Justin Finch-Fletchley_? Who would have thought it? I didn't know you had it in you Hermione.'

She shrugged, 'Well I guess you do now,' she told him indifferently. She took two steps closer to the portrait hole and suddenly felt a hand on her arm, whirling her round to face him.

'Guess what?' He said, his voice low but penetrating, 'I didn't like it.'

'_Jealous_? Who would have thought it? I didn't know you had it in you Draco,' she mimicked scathingly.

'Don't play with me,' he warned, his grip tight on her arm.

'Trust me,' Hermione replied, 'There's no danger of that whatsoever.'

And with that she snatched her arm from his grasp and marched off down the corridor. A tiny little part of her half wanted him to run after her and take her in his arms: guts or not. But he didn't. What a surprise.


	7. Sunday

(A/N: Hello again you lovely readers out there in reader land! It's been a while since I last updated because I've been having computer/parent issues. I'm sure you all understand, and I hope you love this chapter the most seeing as it is the first one I had to write almost completely by hand! ♥)

'You know,' said Harry conversationally to Ron, 'In the muggle world they call Sunday a day of rest.'

They both turned to look pointedly at Hermione who was curled up in an armchair by the fire and scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

'I don't think Hermione got the idea,' Ron replied with a raised eyebrow.

'_Hilarious_,' Hermione told them dryly, 'How many times did you rehearse that exactly?'

'How could you suggest such a thing?' Ron asked, pretending to be shocked, 'We're being _caring_. We're worried about you!'

'Hm?' Hermione mumbled, her quill held between her teeth as she hurriedly leafed through a book on her lap.

'We think you're working too hard,' Harry told her gently.

Hermione's jaw dropped and her quill hit the carpet.

'Working too _hard_?' She repeated incredulously, 'I haven't been able to do _anything_ ever since-' she hurriedly stopped herself. She guessed that "ever since Draco Malfoy started eyeing me up in classes" probably wouldn't go down too well with her friends. With a flicker of regret she could imagine the word "HYPOCRITE" stamped across her forehead. But _he _started it…

'Ever since…?' Harry prompted questioningly.

'Ever since we, um, got back here!' She said resolutely, 'This year's first years are far too noisy! It's… well… y'know… off-putting…'

Ron and Harry stared at her in a silence that seemed to go on forever.

'Stop worrying about me,' she said finally, 'I'm _fine_.'

Ron shrugged, 'Suit yourself, 'Harry glared at him, 'She's _fine_ Harry: she just said so.'

Harry shook his head in disbelief as Ron stood up and headed for the portrait hole.

'I'm off for lunch,' he said over his shoulder, 'Either of you coming?'

'Mmm,' Hermione murmured noncommittally.

'In a minute,' Harry told him.

They both watched as their friend clambered through the hole and the portrait swung shut behind him.

'_I_ know you're not fine,' Harry said, 'Even if you've got Ron fooled.'

Hermione grinned, 'He was just hungry.'

Harry didn't return her smile.

'You'd better tell me what's up with you Hermione,' he said, 'You've been acting weird all week. What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' she said automatically.

'I'm your friend: don't lie to me. If you don't tell me I'm going to have to start asking questions.'

'All right,' Hermione said, closing her books and looking up at him, 'Ask me anything you like.'

'Tell me the truth Hermione,' Harry said, 'How long have you been involved with Draco Malfoy?'

Hermione almost fell out of her seat. She practically felt the blood draining from her face. Of all the questions to ask, he just had to ask the right one, didn't he? Trust Harry.

'_What_?' She whispered, 'How did you-? How could you-? _How_?'

'He's had his eye on you for weeks,' Harry said, making a face which was somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

Hermione shook her head, 'It only started this week.'

'Maybe you only _noticed_ this week,' her friend corrected, 'But he's been after you at least since we got back to school.'

Hermione was speechless.

'Didn't you notice he left you out of all of the daily insults?' Harry continued, 'Apart from yesterday's, I noticed.'

'He was baiting me,' she said, hoarsely finding her voice.

'_Baiting you_?'

'We had a row,' she explained, 'And I was determined not to look at him. I guess he was after any kind of emotion he could get from me: even anger.'

'Sounds pretty serious to me,' Harry said sagely.

'_Serious_,' she scoffed darkly, staring down at her feet, 'I hope he ends up in St. Mungo's with a _serious_ problem.'

Silence filled the common room again, and Hermione looked up at Harry. He was staring into the empty fireplace, his head resting on one hand and looking as though he was deep in thought.

'So…' Hermione ventured worriedly after a while, 'What do you think? Do you hate me now?'

He looked at her and shook his head

'Don't be stupid,' he grinned, 'But I wish you'd told us sooner.'

'It doesn't matter now anyway,' Hermione said, 'Nothing happened, and nothing will.'

'I don't think you can be so sure,' Harry disagreed, 'It wasn't so difficult to tell me, was it? I'm sure other people would get used to it if you gave them time.'

Hermione went back to studying her shoes.

'And Malfoy likes you Hermione, I can tell from the secret hand-holding in the corridor.'

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink.

'No one was supposed to see that,' she muttered worriedly.

'And nobody did,' he assured her with an easy smile, 'Except me, because I was looking for it.'

Hermione let out a sigh and smiled at her friend.

'Thanks Harry,' she said, 'Thanks for understanding.'

'Don't mention it,' he said, standing up and offering a hand to pull her to her feet, 'But some day you're going to have to explain to me what on earth could be attractive about _Draco Malfoy_.'

Hermione laughed, 'I'll tell you when you're older,' she assured him.

They walked side by side, joining the crowds of other students who were all heading down to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione's shoulders felt lighter and there was a bounce in her step that hadn't been there before. It was such a relief that she didn't have to keep secrets from Harry and Ron anymore. Well… after she told Ron, obviously.

'Harry,' she said quietly as they slipped through the doors of the Great Hall and headed for the Gryffindor table, 'Don't tell Ron, okay? Let me do it.'

Harry nodded silently. Not for the first time in her life Hermione realised just how good a friend Harry Potter was: not many people would understand completely that their best friend had fallen for their worst enemy behind their back, let alone encourage them to _continue_ it. Ron, however, was a different matter. Hermione would need to think long and hard about the best way to tell Ron Weasley that it wasn't only in pre-class slanging matches that she had been at the mercy of Draco Malfoy's bittersweet tongue.

Unfortunately, or perhaps quite the opposite, the moment to confess to Ron never really came around that day. What with all of her work to catch up on and so many burning looks from a certain Slytherin to ignore, Hermione just didn't find the time.

Draco was getting impatient now, she could feel it in the tense atmosphere between them as she skirted past him in the corridors with averted eyes. It was an arrogant impatience; _ordering_ her to pay attention to him as though he were the only thing that should matter in her life. It was a kind of impatience that made her jaw tighten and her blood boil.

With her head in a book of Arithmancy charts and her mind working furiously to understand them, Hermione heard her name. For one moment she thought that it was Draco Malfoy, realising that it was okay for people to know how he felt about her. When Justin Finch-Fletchley touched her on the arm, Hermione felt betrayed by her own weakness.

'Hi,' she muttered, hating the disappointment in her voice.

'Hey,' he smiled, 'How's life?'

'Oh you know,' she gestured at nothing in particular, 'As normal and boring as ever.'

She didn't think she'd ever told a bigger lie.

'You look rushed off your feet,' Justin said, sounding concerned.

'Well I guess that's school for you,' Hermione shrugged, 'I work better under pressure anyway.'

'If you feel like relieving some of that pressure, I know somewhere very relaxing to go,' he told her intriguingly, 'And I hear it's a full moon tonight.'

'What if there are werewolves?' She asked playfully, with a hint of a knowing smile on her lips.

'Don't worry,' he murmured, 'I'll protect you.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but her mouth remained in an amused, relaxed curve.

'So what do you say?' He wanted to know, 'Meet me outside your common room after dinner?'

Hermione felt her newfound rebellious streak take control. There was only one place it could have come from. Had he really got under her skin so quickly?

'Sure,' she said, sounding determined, 'Why not.'

'Great,' he grinned, 'See you then.'

He squeezed her hand affectionately in his and then headed off up the corridor. It was only then that Hermione heard the swish of robes and saw a flash of black as someone disappeared around the corner. A watcher.

Over dinner Hermione began to have doubts about meeting up with Justin. Would it be leading him on too much to go out for what would surely be a romantic, night time walk? Was she being bigheaded by presuming that he wanted her as more than just a friend? Perhaps she was picking up some of Malfoy's less desirable qualities without even noticing. She shuddered at the thought.

Thinking about it, where was he? From her seat she had a perfect view of the whole of the Slytherin table, but no white-blonde head stood out from the drab blacks and greens that swamped the group. The watch on Hermione's wrist told her that she still had ten minutes or so until she was supposed to meet Justin, and with Harry and Ron deep in conversation about Quidditch tactics, there was no one to stop curiosity getting the better of her.

Before she had time to weigh up the pros and cons of going on a Malfoy hunt, Hermione found herself already on her feet and slipping, unseen, from the Great Hall. As she ducked under tapestries covering familiar doorways and hopped over steps that weren't really there, she could almost hear time ticking away. She was sure she was late, but the small stab of guilt she felt as she thought of Justin waiting for her was nothing compared to thee pull of Draco Malfoy. She felt like they were playing hide and seek and, even though her sensible, bookish head was telling her that this boy was something she didn't want to find, her pounding heart disagreed and won every time.

Gradually Hermione realised that she was going round in circles. She felt something tighten in her throat. She wasn't going to find him, was she? He was probably in his common room or out having a good time on the Quidditch pitch. He probably hadn't even thought of her all day. Her eyes dropped again to her watch. She was at least fifteen minutes late, but maybe Justin would still be waiting.

She rounded a corner and hurried in the direction of her common room, biting her lip to take her mind off the miserable ache in her stomach. Draco had given up on her already. She was surprised to find herself surprised at that. What reason did she have to trust him? Or was the warmth that glowed between them when they touched trust enough?

The Gryffindor portrait was in Hermione's sight now. She could see Justin, loyally standing his ground outside. He stood side on to her, gazing absently at one of the paintings on the nearby wall. Hermione had opened her mouth to call out to him, when she was suddenly grabbed by the hand and pulled from the corridor into a room she had never noticed before.

Whichever room it was, it was pitch black and smelled faintly of lemons.

'Lucky escape that one,' said a familiar voice that sent an array of emotions shimmying down Hermone's spine.

'You almost ended up with a whole night of Justin "I-would-have-gone-to-Eton-if-I-hadn't-got-in-here" Finch-Fletchley.'

Hermione clenched her fists in annoyance and opened her mouth to retaliate, but Malfoy got there first.

'I could put up with the evil looks,' he said, 'And the ignoring me and the avoiding me like the plague.'

Hermione couldn't see him at all in the darkness, but she felt the delicious warmth from him as he moved closer.

'But every single time I almost catch you alone, along comes everyone's favourite Hufflepuff in shining armour,' Draco continued, the sneer obvious in his voice.

'So what?' Hermione challenged.

'Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he's a nice guy,' he replied in a tone which made it obvious that he thought quite the opposite, 'But does he always have to have his hands all _over_ you?'

'Don't act as if you own me.'

'Sometimes I wish I did. At least if I owned you Mr Charm there wouldn't get a look in to bugger it up like he has done already.'

'Oh come now, don't be modest Malfoy,' Hermione said bitterly, 'You've done a very good job of buggering it up all by yourself.'

'Malfoy again, is it? Are we back to being enemies?'

'We were rarely little else,' she said with deliberate flippancy.

She made to leave, but Draco expertly cornered her, trapping her against the wall with his own body.

'You know that's not true,' he murmured, his voice dangerously low and his mouth so close to hers that Hermione could feel his words on her own lips.

Hermione's teeth clenched indignantly. She got as far as: 'Don't you _dare_ think that you can just-' before Malfoy covered her mouth with his own.

He held her differently as he kissed her: his body shielding hers with his hands on her back, holding her tightly to him, as though he were staking claim instead of just fooling around. Hermione had never before fully appreciated what a powerful thing jealousy was.

Coming up for air, Hermione rested her on Draco's shoulder and took in his gorgeous scent, mixed with the smell of the mysterious room. She decided that it must be one of those strange, magical rooms like the Room of Requirement; this one perhaps opening out onto a grove of lemon trees occasionally lit by a pink and orange setting sun.

'Where are we?' She breathed.

'Broom cupboard,' Draco murmured in her ear, his breathing heavier than normal.

_Bang goes the lemon trees_, Hermione thought.

'Very romantic,' she said dryly.

He laughed, 'Only the best for my girl.'

There was a pause which went on for a little too long.

'What?' Malfoy asked, 'What is it?'

'I was just thinking… I won't ever really be your girl, will I? If no one knows, I mean.'

'I don't exactly see _you_ shouting it from the rooftops,' he pointed out.

'I told Harry,' she said defensively.

The way that Draco's back stiffened made Hermione think that maybe this wasn't something he wanted to hear.

'I'll bet you shocked him with that one,' Draco said grimly.

'Hmm…' Hermione felt herself flush and was thankful for the cover of darkness.

'What is it?' He wanted to know.

'Let's just say: maybe you should be a bit nicer to Harry.'

'Mmm,' Draco said noncommittally.

'Although, maybe that would be a bit suspicious,' Hermione thought out loud.

'Not to mention a bit impossible,' he said with a grin as he leaned in to kiss her again.


	8. Monday again

**(A/N: Been in America on holiday, but finished this off tonight. Enjoy! ♥)**

Monday morning hit Hermione like a slap in the face. One minute she had been arguing with Draco Malfoy, then she had been kissing Draco Malfoy and before she knew it all of the time had just disappeared. When she had finally managed to drag herself away from him, he had held her hand as they quietly walked the few hundred yards to the Gryffindor common room.

'Goodnight,' she had whispered.

'Or good morning,' he had added, 'Depending on how you look at it.'

After leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips one last time, she had turned and headed up to bed. Her sweet dreams had, of course, been filled with Malfoy, but were never quite as good as the real thing.

'Out late last night, weren't you?' Ron asked as they headed down to breakfast.

'Um…' Hermione said as she felt her mind go blank. She saw Harry nodding vigorously behind Ron's head.

'Yeah,' she said quickly, 'I was…'

She watched Harry put his hands together and then flatten them out, palms upwards repeatedly.

'Oh!' Hermione said triumphantly as she suddenly understood, 'I was at the library!'

'Err… good for you…' Ron said, looking at her strangely.

Harry waited until Ron was slightly ahead of them, caught up in Seamus Finnigan's conversation in front, before he spoke.

'You should tell him,' he advised Hermione quietly, 'That was a bit of a close one Hermione. I mean, I know you don't think much of Ron's general intelligence, but he's going to notice sooner or later.'

'I never doubted his intelligence!' Hermione snapped indignantly. In her head, however, she too knew it had been a close call. She hated lying to Ron and she hated the idea of Harry lying to cover for her.

'Life is complicated sometimes,' she sighed out loud.

'And then you die,' said Harry with a grin.

Halfway through breakfast Hermione remembered what she had forgotten.

'I'm just going to run upstairs and get my History of Magic essay before class, okay?' She said to Ron, who sat beside her.

'Sure,' he said around a mouthful of bacon, 'No problem.'

As she took the stairs two at a time, Hermione realised that it was in History of Magic itself that life had taken an interesting turn the week before. She wasn't quite sure if she was thankful or not.

'Want to do something really bad, but good at the same time?' Said an intriguing voice somewhere over to her left.

'Something we haven't done already?' She challenged, putting her head on one side as she turned to face him.

'Well we can do that too,' he said in that low, deliciously dangerous voice as he stepped closer to her.

'I don't think we should do this anymore,' she told him, abruptly taking a step back.

It came so unexpectedly for both of them, that Hermione wasn't certain if she had really said it or not.

Draco faltered.

'Wh-what do you mean?' He wanted to know.

'I can't lie to my friends,' she explained, 'I've already had to lie about where I was last night, and it makes me feel terrible.'

He caught her gaze with his intense, blue eyes and held it as he spoke.

'Even if what we have is something special?'

'If it's something special then what's the harm in people knowing?' she shot back.

There was silence between them.

'It really makes you think: is it worth it?' She continued, 'And I'm sorry Draco, but I'm really not sure if only being "your girl" when it suits you is worth it at all.'

'I'm sorry you feel that way,' he said with an unreadable expression on his face.

She regarded him for a moment, 'I'm not,' she replied before carrying on her way to Gryffindor tower.

'Have you told him yet?' Harry murmured as he sat down next to Hermione at dinner.

'No,' she said quietly, 'I told someone else something else instead.'

Harry let out a sympathetic sigh and looked at her.

'What happened?' He asked.

'Nothing,' she replied, staring down at her hands, feeling numb, 'I just told him that I couldn't sneak around anymore, and then I left. And…'

'And what?' Harry said gently.

'And it was the truth,' she finished, her voice so soft that Harry could barely hear her.

'Sometimes the truth hurts,' he said quietly, patting her comfortingly on the back, 'But it's usually for the best.'

'Is it Harry?' She wanted to know, looking up with hurt in her eyes, 'Is it for the best? Or am I just being too fussy? Maybe I should just take what I can get.'

'No Hermione,' he said firmly, 'You're worth more than a part-time relationship. You're special.'

She suddenly knew that she was going to cry and that she had to get out of there. She put her arms around Harry.

'You're the best friend in the world,' she choked through her tears, and then she hurried from the room, disappearing into the throng of students still only just arriving in the Great Hall.

When she reached her dorm, Hermione fell to her knees and cried until she thought her heart would break, and when she finally fell asleep she saw him in her dreams, and then it really did.


	9. A Tuesday like every other

**(A/N: I'd just like to take a second to say thank you so much to my lovely reviewers, but most of all to xXx xesha xXx, because "****good, bad, corny, great, fantastic, corny and alright" is exactly what I think of my story too. All of my stories, in fact. On that note, who wants a sequel to Eyes On You? Yay or nay? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Enjoy chapter 9! ♥)**

When Hermione surveyed herself the next morning in the mirror she looked just like she always had. There was no glow. There was no "Draco Malfoy has just kissed the living daylights out of me" grin. All she saw was her own pale, blank, lifeless face peering back at her. How dull she felt. How unimportant and useless. She tried to remember what she had done before. She cast her eyes around her dormitory. A huge pile of books sat beside her bed, mostly untouched, just waiting to be taken back to the library. The library. Of course! That was what she had done before! She felt a twinge of misery in her stomach as she met her own eyes in the mirror.

'I'm _boring_,' she whispered.

She looked down at her hands, and felt them clench into defiant fists. She wasn't _boring_! She was _intellectual_! That was it, she decided, this moping around was stopping here. What had she been _doing_ with herself for the past week? It was like she had been brainwashed by those burning eyes. She stood up and turned her back on the mirror. She was just going to have to pretend that nothing had ever happened with Malfoy.

'_Malfoy again, is it_? _Are we back to being enemies_?' He said in her head.

'Stop it,' she whispered, fighting back tears, 'Leave me alone.'

Even her own mind was against her, punishing her for something that wasn't her fault.

'So…' said Ron tentatively as he sat down at breakfast, 'What kind of mood are you in today Hermione?'

'A normal mood,' she replied, peering at him over the pages The Daily Prophet, 'Not too happy, not too sad: just in the middle.'

'Glad to hear it,' Harry said as he joined them.

She smiled at him and he grinned back.

'Have I missed something?' Ron asked, looking back and forth between them.

Hermione suddenly wanted to come clean. She didn't want to have secrets from one of her best friends, even if he might react badly.

'No,' Harry said casually, but with an air of finality, 'Unless you've been falling asleep on us as well as Professor Binns.'

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and Hermione smiled faintly. Obviously Harry didn't think telling Ron was such a good idea anymore.

'Is McGonagall definitely back then?' Dean Thomas asked, leaning across the table towards the trio.

'Yes Mr Thomas, I am _definitely_ back,' said a familiar, stern voice, 'But surely _Professor_ McGonagall is a far politer way to refer to your Transfiguration teacher, is it not?'

Dean turned red and seemed to shrink into his seat.

'Yes Professor,' he muttered.

'That's better,' Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly, straightening up to her full height.

'She gives me the creeps,' Dean said, hunching over in his seat as their teacher strode masterfully away out of the Great Hall, 'Can't even eat my breakfast in peace.'

'Oh, she's okay really,' said Hermione with a smile. She was beginning to feel almost light hearted again. Really, who needed Draco Malfoy? She had her friends, what more could a girl ask for?

As she stood up to brush the breakfast crumbs from her robes, Justin Finch-Fletchley swept past Hermione wordlessly with his eyes averted. She turned, confused at his coldness, and then remembered the night before.

'Justin, wait,' she said, reaching out to touch him on the arm.

He turned to her slowly and sullenly.

'What?' He asked sulkily.

'I wanted to apologise about last night,' she told him, 'I'm really sorry I didn't turn up.'

'Where were you?' Justin wanted to know.

'I had to finish my Transfiguration essay,' she lied smoothly. There were no Hufflepuffs in her Transfiguration class. He would never know.

'Great,' he said sarcastically, 'Good for you.'

He turned to leave again and Hermione took his arm again, more impatiently this time. He pulled away from her.

'Justin, please,' she tried again.

'No,' he shook his head, 'You know what Hermione? If I'm not even as important as a bloody Transfiguration essay, then you can just forget about apologising. There's no point.'

And with that he stalked off out of the Great Hall and didn't look back.

Hermione looked at the floor and bit her lip.

Draco: two, Hermione: nil.

After dinner, all of Hermione's Transfiguration class found themselves in the library, swotting up for a big test coming up next lesson and, with some irony, writing a complicated essay on the intricate laws of the subject. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together at a round table; Hermione making notes from a huge volume rested in her lap, Harry biting on the end of his quill and constantly writing and re-writing the first sentence of his essay over and over again, and Ron staring off into space, his interest having wandered from the subject hours before. Hermione wrote her notes with a smug smile on her face. She hadn't thought about Draco Malfoy even once for the whole day. Apart from when she was thinking about not thinking about him. She decided that that didn't count. She had felt no burning eyes on her for the whole day, and she was _glad_. It had been a totally normal day, and she planned to keep it that way. Who needed Draco Malfoy anyway? Not her.

She closed the book she had been reading with a satisfying thud, rubbed her eyes and then stood up, heaving the volume with her to swap it for another on the shelves. She crossed the room to the Transfiguration section, swapped her book for something far more manageable, turned to return to her seat and found herself face to face with Justin for the second time that day.

She stared at him.

'Um… hi,' he said after a pause.

'Hi,' she grudgingly replied.

'Thought I might find you here,' he grinned.

'Mmm,' she murmured.

Justin's smile turned to a grimace.

'Look,' he said, 'I can understand why you don't want to talk to me, but I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for snapping at you.'

'That's okay,' she said, making to edge past him back to her seat.

'No,' he said, barring her way, 'It's not okay. I didn't mean to be so hard on you.'

'Really Justin,' she assured him, 'That's okay.'

'I was just disappointed,' he continued, as though he hadn't heard her, 'I had been really looking forward to meeting up with you.'

'Uh-huh…'

'It was the first time I had managed to get up the nerve to ask you actually,' he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Hermione didn't like the way this conversation was going.

'Look, Justin?' She said, 'I think you're really great, but-'

'You do?' He asked, 'Because I think you're really great too Hermione.'

She suddenly realised that he had somehow trapped her between himself and the bookcase behind her. There was no way out.

'In fact,' he continued, his voice lowering, 'I was wondering if maybe you wanted to… y'know… go out with me?'

For some reason, Hermione's brain immediately flashed on the warning lights. It told her very firmly to get out of this conversation before she did something stupid. She tried to reason with herself: he was a nice guy really.

'Oh,' she managed eventually, 'Well I don't really think-'

'You don't have to answer straight away,' he interrupted, 'I mean, if you need time to think about it, then take all the time you need.'

Sure he was nice, her brain continued, but he was no… well, he was no Draco Malfoy. _Crap_, she thought to herself. Maybe she wasn't as over him as she had thought. She felt her heart begin to pound and that familiar knot tighten in her stomach. She looked up to find that Justin was still talking away at her. Suddenly she felt stronger.

'Look Justin,' she said again, but more firmly this time, 'I like you, but as a _friend_. I don't think it could ever be anything more than that.'

He looked at her silently for a moment.

'Is there someone else?' He asked gravely.

Hermione had a horrible urge to giggle, but fought it back down.

'No,' she said, 'Well… yes. Well no, but there was.'

Justin still stared at her. Hermione let out a sigh.

'I was kind of with someone… and I've kind of just realised that… well… I wish I was still with him.'

Justin put one hand to her face.

'Maybe I could help you get over him,' he suggested softly.

His face was now inches from Hermione's and she began to feel trapped. She pulled as far away from him as she could.

'Really Justin,' she said quickly, 'I don't think you could.'

'Who is this guy anyway?' Justin demanded.

Just then Hermione saw someone tap Justin on the shoulder. He whirled round to face the person, obscured to Hermione by Justin's frame.

'Me,' said a voice, 'Actually.'

And before Hermione could see what was happening, Justin was lying out cold on the floor with a broken nose, and Draco was standing before her with bloody knuckles. Hermione heard the library gasp as one.

'At least, I hope I'm that guy,' Draco added thoughtfully as he looked steadily at Hermione.

'You shouldn't've done that,' she said quietly, looking slightly shell shocked.

'Yeah, I know,' he agreed. He held out his hand to her and she took it instinctively. She stepped over Justin's crumpled form and stood, looking up at Draco.

'I shouldn't do this either,' he said, 'But I'm going to do it anyway.'

'What-?' Hermione began, but Draco put a finger to her lips to silence her, and then replaced it with his mouth.

When she came back down to earth again, Hermione didn't hear the uproar she had expected from the rest of the library, but she could sense a certain suspense in the air. She felt it in her heart too. She didn't let him hold her to him like he had done so many times before. Instead, she stepped away and watched him tense.

'I pushed you away before,' she said.

'I know,' he agreed.

'Why don't you hate me?'

'Because I don't want you to be a secret anymore: I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want everyone to know.'

'I think they do already,' she whispered, and a smile stole its way onto her face.

'Smart bunch, aren't they?' He grinned back.

They looked at each other for a moment more until their smiles faded.

'This is going to take work,' he told her.

'I'm good at work,' she replied.

'I know,' he said, his grin returning, 'And thankfully, _this_ work is far more enjoyable than Transfiguration.'

And with that, he plucked the book from her grasp, flung it down, took her hand and led her out from the bookshelves, through the room and out into the corridor beyond. Behind them, the library exploded with noise. Hermione and Draco didn't care.

The End

**(A/N: All together now: awwwwwwww! Tho thweet! Seriously though, did you like it? I would have liked a nice even 10 chapters, but that's just not the way it worked out. It wasn't meant to be a long story anyway (sorry stuck in the wilderness!). **

**Think about the sequel. Fancy one? I am, of course, your sparkly writing fairy, and will produce soppiness wherever it is most wished for.**

**Anyway guys, thanks a lot for all the reviews and making me feel so special. I think all of you are amazing and deserve at least a bazillion gold stars each.**

**Lots of Love, ♥Rockstarlet♥)**


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